The Things We Do for Love
by MostDefinitelyFlorentine
Summary: Maggie has a horrible past and an uncertain future. When Hal is kidnapped and taken away, she must not only find a way to get him back but also a reason to keep on living.
1. The Mission

Shots rang out in the chilly night air as I advanced towards a Piggly Wiggly.

Okay, I should explain.

The name's Margaret, but call me that and I'll tell you where you can stick your AK-47—if you couldn't figure it out, I don't like Margaret. I go by Maggie. I'm a fighter for the Second Massachusetts Militia Regiment, or 2nd Mass. About ten months ago, planet earth was invaded by a race of aliens we like to call "skitters" and their robots—mechanicals or "mechs" for short.

Our leader's a guy called Weaver. Many fighters didn't like him too much when he was assigned to command all of us. He's kind of a crotchety old man, but he gets the job done.

I vaulted over a shopping cart filled with alarming amounts of Benadryl. I scooped some up and stuffed them in my coat. Our medic, Anne Glass, could always use some more.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, Weaver. His second-in-command is Tom Mason—I am, or at least was, what you could call "more than friends" with his oldest son Hal. Four months ago, Tom walked right onto a spaceship full of skitters and we didn't get him back until three months later, when his middle son, Ben—who had been harnessed until Anne removed the damned thing—"accidentally" shot him. No one was sure if he meant it, but he still seems to feel awful about the whole thing . . . and his spikes never disappeared.

I collected a can of tuna from the curb.

Which brings us to right now. Oh, sure, Tom's fine, but Pope has his Berserkers thinking the skitters messed with his head. And people just can't seem to lay off Ben.

But that's the least of my worries at the moment. I don't know where I am, I just know that I'm dying. Maybe going through what started it all will help ease the burning pain.

I had a mech on my tail, and was almost out of ammo. Not good. I hid behind a column, nearing the entrance to the supermarket. Me and Hal had split up with Tom and Anthony about ten minutes before to raid the place, looking for food. Not much luck so far, unless you count low-sodium albacore and allergy meds. Which Anne did.

"Maggie, duck!" I heard somewhere to my right. I hit the deck just as Hal let loose several rounds, finishing off the mech. All was silent for a moment, until we both let out a barely audible cheer. We couldn't risk alerting more mechs or skitters of our presence, so we stayed fairly quiet.

I darted into the abandoned Piggly Wiggly while Hal entered from the back entrance. I grabbed a shopping cart with a squeaky wheel; it worried me at first, but I calmed myself down. It wasn't loud enough for anyone, or anything, to hear.

Pleased to find so much food, I started loading the cart with non-perishables, avoiding the smelly fish section. Eurgh, that stuff had been rotting for who knows how long. Hal met up with me by the pickup truck that we drove there, out in the parking lot. He managed to get his hands on some pretty fine foodstuffs.

We cautiously made our way back to the 2nd Mass, keeping an eye peeled for skitters. None crossed our path.

Cheers erupted as soon as we pulled into the camp with enough food to keep us going for a good amount of time. Hal grinned at me with those heart-melting eyes, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before anyone could see, and I smiled contentedly back at him. Looked like a success. Oh, who was I kidding, definitely a success! Hal went off to hang with Ben, but I went straight to the food.

I enjoyed a warm meal with Lourdes before meeting up with Tom and Weaver to debrief. To tell the truth, I hadn't expected their faces to look so grim.

"What's wrong?" I asked, foreboding creeping up my spine.

They exchanged a glance and Tom inquired in a perfectly calm voice, "When was the last time you saw Hal?"

"About an hour ago, right when we got back. Why?" I was starting to get alarmed.

"We can't find him," he said, looking troubled.

"I saw Hal and Ben talking together before dinner! Maybe he just went to bed early," I said frantically, not wanting to think about what could happen if he was out alone.

"I checked," said Tom, lines of worry etched on his face, and continued, "His bed is empty. Hasn't been slept in since last night. But no weapons are missing from our stash. Wherever Hal is, he's unarmed."

Weaver didn't give me time to respond. "We want you and Dai to go out looking for him with Tom."

I shook with fear. "Like a search party? But he's only been missing for an hour!"

Tom looked as though Hal was already dead. "Maggie . . . there's signs of a struggle, and some civilians are saying they heard yelling."

Weaver finished for him. "We have to face the facts. And the facts are saying that Hal has been kidnapped."

I blacked out.


	2. Infirmary

**A/N: Thanks so much for the awesome reviews! I decided to upload the next chapter early. Sorry it's so short, but don't worry, it gets better. Hopefully I'll have Chapter Three up by tomorrow.**

When I came to in the infirmary, I was surrounded by concerned face and scared eyes.

"Give her some time, she's in shock," Anne? Yes, Anne.

I opened my eyes and gazed up at the people by my bedside. There were Anne, Lourdes, Tom, and someone sitting in the dark behind everybody.

"Wha-what happened?" I slurred. My head felt all fuzzy, and my vision was slightly blurry.

"Honey, you passed out when you heard that Hal's missing," said Anne, peering at me as it all rushed back. Hal gone. Signs of a struggle. Yelling. Kidnapped. Kidnapped! I jumped from my bed and stumbled, not feeling quite at my prime.

They were staring at me with some trepidation. I grabbed the mirror that lay on the table next to the bed and took a good look at myself. I could see why everybody seemed so alarmed. I looked like hell. My face was covered in dirt, my hair was tangled and stringy, and I had wild eyes.

Anne pushed me back down onto the bed and I didn't complain. I was pretty damn tired. It'd been a long day.

"You rest for a few hours, then you can join Tom and Dai in finding Hal. I know how much he means to you," said Anne gently. I could feel myself blushing, even though it was completely true. Still is. Hal means the world to me, I just haven't told him. And I may never get the chance. I laid back on the bedsheets and closed my eyes, breathing deeply. By the time I opened them, everyone was gone. I guessed I drifted off.

I took notice of the figure still skulking around in the shadows. I squinted and saw that it was Ben. He stepped forward and opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it and sank down into a chair by my bed. I could only imagine what this all must be like for him. His brother was gone, probably dead—though I _attempted_ to shake the thought from my mind—and Ben was not allowed to go and try to find him. He'd been taken off active duty due to a squabble between him and another fighter who called him a "razorback". It was harsh, but you'd think Ben would have been used to it by now.

He leaned back and said in a shaky voice, "You know, they're going to let you go search for him soon."

"I know. I sorry you can't come, but—"

"Don't say that," he began. "I have my own way of helping. I have an idea, but it's only going to work if you do it. No one trusts me."

I sat up and narrowed my eyes at him. "What kind of a plan?"

He smiled and told me.

"Okay, I'll try it. I'm not sure if it'll work, though." Ben seemed unfazed by this. He got up and started for the door, but not before turning back and saying, "Oh, you'll be surprised."


	3. A Risky Plan

"How sure are you about this idea, exactly?" I heard through the layers of skitter flesh covering my face. Eurgh.

Dai was skeptical. I'd told him "my" plan and he and Tom agreed to try it out. He wasn't too convinced of it, though, and I couldn't say that I was either.

"It's our best bet. Hell, it's our _only_ bet. It's got to work." I yelled so he could hear me.

I wasn't too fond of the plan, but nevertheless, it was the best way to get close to the skitters without dying a painful death. Which wasn't really at the top of my list of things to do, if you know what I mean.

The first thing we did after I got out of the infirmary was go and kill a skitter. Not too hard at this point, but it had to be a clean kill so I could . . . fit inside the body without missing any limbs. There was a possibility that the creatures would have noticed something was amiss if one of their friends turned up without a head. There was lots of slicing and dicing and stitching, but it turned out that I was able to fit inside it fairly easily. Anne cut holes for my eyes where there used to skitter eyeballs and gouged out its organs in order to stuff me in it.

I sprayed some Febreeze inside, but it didn't seem to make much difference. Still smelled like #!*% in here.

I asked Ben why we couldn't just do what Hal did to recover him—putting a fake harness on my back and blending in as a harnessed child, but Ben said that since we had done that before, the skitters wouldn't be so easy to fool. Apparently they're smarter than they let on.

"There, you're all ready to go. Can you see?" said Tom from a place considerably less claustrophobic and stinky.

"Yeah. Let's do this."

Ben had described to me where the nearest harnessing facility is, since it's the likeliest place they would have taken Hal. It was a start.

We crept along, sticking to the dark shadows of the excruciatingly _early_ morning darkness. Before long we traced a lone skitter back to an airport not far from the 2nd Mass. Too close, if you ask me. But then, to me China would be too close for a harnessing facility.

I surveyed the landscape through my eye-holes. I peered through one of the windows to Terminal A and took in about a half-dozen skitters, two mechs, and . . . Hal! My heart gave an involuntary lurch. He was unconscious at the moment, on the floor in front of one of the skitters. They had other children, too. A girl of about twelve, twin boys with mud-caked faces, and a teenager who looked startlingly like me. We would have to save them all. _This had better work, or else . . . who knows_, I thought.

Tom signaled for me to go in; he and Dai went around to the back of the airport. The aliens seemed mildly surprised at seeing another comrade joining them, but not disturbed in the slightest. That was reassuring, like this might actually work. Now I launched the next phase of the plan.

I began gesticulating wildly with my hands (paws? graspers? tentacle-thingies?), attempting communication. They looked at me with their nearly unreadable faces as I motioned to Hal, to me, and then up to the sky, trying to tell them that I'd be escorting him up to the big-shot master alien people whatsits.

Everything seemed to be going well—they looked to be catching on like they were used to communication problems—so well, actually, that I didn't even notice the familiar figure lurking around in my peripheral vision. I was too excited at getting close enough to almost touch my Hal that I didn't notice the _click_ noise that means someone was cocking a gun. I didn't even notice the release of a single bullet. In fact, if I wasn't hearing that same bullet ripping through skitter flesh and feeling it tearing into my skin and destroying my stomach wall, I wouldn't have thought anything was amiss.

But I did hear it, and I did feel the agony and the blood pouring out of the wound and onto the ground as skitters and mechs backed away from somebody else's job. Something in the back of my mind registered all this as a trap.

I saw a face right before I lost consciousness, and somewhere far off into the distance when in fact right next to me, I heard Ben say a faint, "I'm so sorry, Maggie. But Hal won't mind the harness. I didn't."

And everything faded away, just like that.

**A/N: Don't worry, this isn't the end . . . yet. Much love to all my followers—you are the reason why I decided to update sooner! 3 you all!**


	4. Memories

**A/N: One more chapter after this one—I've already started on the sequel, from Ben's POV after the skitters take him. I will probably be writing a third to conclude the "series", though I'm not sure where I'm going with that.**

I'm not awake, but I'm not asleep. I seem to be floating in some sort of limbo between life and death. I know that Ben shot me, but the pain isn't so bad now. It gradually slips away and is replaced by a gentle cooling sensation, as if someone with a kind and gentle hand was submerging me in river water.

I should be sad. I should be mad, but somehow I'm not either of those things. I'm just existing, undoubtedly not much longer. So I wait in the deafening silence of my dream world, watching the significant moments of my life pass lazily by me. I see my childhood, the happy ignorance of being unaware of the horrors of the real world. Only now do I fully understand why almost all adults still wish they were kids.

I jump forward to my time at the hospital, fighting the brain cancer and coming so close to death and yet escaping. I got a second chance at life. It ends here.

I relive the stinging memories of losing my entire family to the invasion, and wishing with all my heart that I could follow them to wherever they ended up, because life just didn't seem worth living when you had absolutely no one.

But I plowed on, battling hunger and loneliness and terror. After several months of this hell, Pope's gang found me; I thought that things would finally be looking up for me.

They didn't. If anything, life was worse.

Pope gave me a gun. I contemplated using it on myself just to end all the torture and mistreatment I was enduring at the hands of his cronies—but I comforted myself with the fact that someday, I'd load the gun and point it right at their heads. I knew I would be able to kill them. I don't know how I knew, I just did.

Tears cloud my eyes as I watch the first time I saw Hal. It wasn't would you would call love at first sight or anything—he was cocky and conceited, the very type I detested because it reminded me of the men who were still right next to me.

I had no idea that the 2nd Mass even existed. If I had, I would have had a destination that urged me to escape. I'd thought that my last chance for survival was with the Berserkers.

I saw my window of opportunity and grabbed it—after so many long months of service, I highly doubt anyone would have expected me to turn traitor. When the two buffoons weren't looking, I shot them and released their "prisoners", Hal and Tom and some others. It felt good—almost too good, like some sort of sick bloodlust that I couldn't fight against. I shocked myself with the psychotic smile that spread across my face at the sight of seeing their lifeless, dead bodies on the floor. If only they'd knew what had been coming.

Tom Mason and the 2nd Mass shone like a beacon of hope for me, a chance to avenge the death of my family and to prove myself a worthy fighter. Captain Weaver let me become one, much to everyone's displeasure, and I was partnered up with whom else but Hal.

Our relationship wasn't simple, but we made the most of it. Neither of us had respected the other when we started, though in the midst of all the chaos, we managed to fight the logical pull of our minds to resist the feelings and eventually prevailed in the abstract state of being that we call love.

With a pang I recall the optimism that became me before the events of last night, or the night before, or whenever.

I wonder where Hal is now. Probably dead. I know he'd rather face death than be harnessed—better to die a free man than live a short life of slavery, serving the creatures that have taken everything away from us, including my parents, my happiness, my love, and now my life. I have nothing left to lose, I realize that now. Instead of feeling invincible, I am simply empty. Because in having nothing to lose, I have nothing to fight for.

The burning in my heart, from misery or from the pain in my abdomen, had dulled down to a hiss in my veins, like liquid running through my entire body. I resign to the dark stench of death and expect to feel an absence of senses in making in my way to whatever follows this wretched life, but instead the pain returns.

I fight against it, not wanting to stay here. I've lived, and I have no wish to carry on.

Suddenly, my sight is blinded by a white light and the faint undertones of voices, talking or screaming, I can't tell. The hurt of the injury hits me with full force, enough to knock me over if I had been standing up. Which I realize, I'm not. I am lying on something cold and hard.

The voices grow steadily louder, but I can't tell what they are saying. I don't care. This is not what I desire. I _want_ to die, I want to. I have no wish to live in a world with no hope or love, with the only emotion driving us to kill being loathing.

More of the cool liquid enters my veins and the voices grow clearer—I can almost hear the words they say.

"_No, no, come back, don't leave me—" _

"_It's no use, she's dying, we can't do anything for her, just let her go in peace . . ."_

Hal. He was the first voice, I'm sure. I don't know who the other was, but I don't care. If Hal is here, then he alone is my reason to come back.

I fight now, harder than I've ever fought before, because I know that I can't leave him alone in a world like this. I push away the cloud of darkness that had been rapidly settling over me like a solemn fog, gritting my teeth against the wave of agony that greets me, pushing into my side like a white-hot poker. I will not leave Hal.

I force myself to open my eyes a crack and when I succeed in doing so, I see Dr. Glass standing above me, looking down at the blood still rushing out of me.

"Wait! No, look, she's awake! She can hear us!" Hal screams, causing Anne to concentrate harder on whatever she's trying to do.

"_Maggie!_" Hal shouts at me. I can do this.

My pain subsides, but the light in my face does not flicker and the sounds do not quiet. I can feel life slowly flowing back into me, making me stronger with every second.

"_MAGGIE!_"

My eyes pop open all the way and I hear victorious cries, joyful noises, filling my being with contentedness. I'm alive and I will pull through. I made it. I feel a prick in my arm and gradually start to drift off.

I slip into a peaceful slumber, far away from death.


	5. The Things We Do for Love

My eyelids flutter open and the brightness of the room that I'm in causes my pupils to shrink. I glance around in confusion, not completely remembering the events in the dream world. Next to me, Hal is sound asleep; I look down to see that he is holding my hand.

I'm in the infirmary back at the 2nd Mass. I don't know how I got here or what exactly happened after Ben shot me, but it doesn't matter at the moment.

I sit up slowly, wincing at the pain in my side. I am getting ready to assess the damage when, across the room, Lourdes is startled out of an overworked trance and stands up so fast that her seat falls to the floor. Hal shifts in his sleep but does not wake.

"Dr. Glass! She's awake!" Lourdes calls to Anne, who comes rushing in and they both run to my bedside, expressions of worry carved into their faces.

Anne speaks up first, in a soft tone, "How're you feeling, Maggie?"

I straighten up and fix her with an irritated look. "Hungry."

They laugh, awakening Hal, who in one swift movement, pulls me close ad holds me tight. My muscles tense at first, but relax in his arms. Anne and Lourdes leave to give us some privacy and notify the others that I'm awake.

Hal buries his face in my hair and murmurs, "I thought I lost you. Don't you _ever_ do that to me again, do you hear me?"

I laugh softly and snuggle even closer to him, ignoring the bandages wrapped around my stomach. We are still, like this for what could be minutes or hours. I don't know. I am lost in his love and never want to resurface.

He pulls back reluctantly and I lay back on the covers of my bed. He sighs. "I suppose you want to know what happened after . . . after . . ." he falters.

"I know what you mean. And yes, I do. How did you escape from the skitters?"

It seems like such a trivial point now that we're together, but I really should know. It's important, in a way.

"You saw me go talk to Ben right after the mission, correct?" I nod. "Well, he wanted to go for a walk to talk about something personal, he said. He's my brother, I trusted him, but it took me too long to figure out that his spikes were glowing. He'd led me to that airport—I should have been paying more attention. He was acting differently; I, being his older brother, should have noticed. But by then it was too late.

"He conked me over the head—" I give a small gasp— "and knocked me unconscious. It's not his fault, though. He was still being controlled. The last thing Ben would want to do is shoot you. They made him hurt us against his will and lure you to the harnessing facility. There was nothing he could have done." Hal gets all choked up as he continues. "I woke up just in time to see you fall to the ground. With Tom and Dai's help, I managed to defeat the mechs and about half of the skitters, but it was too late for me to do anything for Ben. In the tumult, the few remaining skitters dragged him away onto one of their ships. He's gone, Maggie."

I stare at his face in astounded silence. There must be something I can do. I won't let Ben be harnessed again. Hal risked his life once to save him, and that can't be for nothing. I don't say this, though. Instead I hold him and let the undamaged part of my body contour to his.

"Ahem . . ."

Anne is standing in the doorway. Hal and I pull apart, red-faced, recognizing the way we were intertwined as not exactly appropriate for children. Dr. Glass smiles and I smile, too, because in this moment, everything's okay. I know we will get Ben back, without a doubt, and for now, I have a reason to live.

Before this entire ordeal, I was blind to the concept of undying love. You see, love is more than just a simple emotion or a chemical compound in our brains. It is our anchor to this world, our passion and drive to push on, and the only thing that leaves us truly vulnerable and, in all respects, human.

Everything happens for a reason. People have said that to me my whole life, and only now do I see the truth of those words. If I hadn't joined the Berserkers in the first place and gone through unspeakable tragedy and suffering, I wouldn't be where I am right now and I wouldn't know all the things that I know.

I also see that there are no boundaries to true love—if you really care for someone, you will do whatever it takes to keep them alive, safe, and happy. I would venture to the ends of the earth and beyond for my Hal, and I know in my heart that he would do the same for me. What would you do for someone? If the first thought that comes to mind isn't _absolutely anything_, then maybe it's not real.

The true answer lies in the things we do for love.

**A/N: This concludes Part 1 of **_**The Things We Do**_** mini-series by yours truly. Soon I'll be posting the sequel, **_**The Things We Do for Hate**_**. I will most likely be finishing off the series with a third part, but I have no idea what I'm going to do with that. Somebody else's POV, probably. I find it interesting to explore the thoughts and emotions of so many characters that I haven't made up myself. Please R&R and tell me what you thought of the ending. **


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